


Irresistible

by MilkTeaMiku



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Creature Dean, Creature Sam, M/M, Mer!Dean, Mer!Sam, Mermaids, Sexual Tension, merman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:16:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the shark could get any closer Dean whipped his blade up, pressing it sharply against the shark’s neck. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he said with a wide grin. “Aren’t you meant to be hunting me, or something?”</p><p>“I could still eat you, pretty boy,” the shark snarled, tail thrashing. He didn’t have lacy fins like Dean did; rather, he was exactly like one would expect – sleek and grey, designed for speed and strength and not flashy displays of beauty.</p><p>Dean hummed. He trailed his knife around the shark’s neck as he swam around him, eyeing up his tail and the strong muscles of his back and shoulders. He felt an odd stirring in his stomach that he knew to be arousal and shook it off. He always popped boners at inappropriate times. “You think I’m pretty?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irresistible

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [Wincestion's](http://wincestion.tumblr.com/) art

Buried beneath an isolated island is a large expanse of deep-water coral and complicated cave lines shaped by the lull of the ocean and the natural erosion of all sorts of critters and earth-rumbles. Dean’s shoal had been occupying the area for as long as he could remember and probably before that; it was an advantageous, sought after settlement that they fiercely guarded. 

There were many types of people in his shoal; they were as diverse as the coral system and all its inhabitants. Tails and fins of all shapes and colours could be seen flitting between the columns of rock and coral, and in amongst the anemones and the caves they made their homes. While they were too far down for much sunlight to filter into their homes, bioluminescent plants – and fins, in some cases – aptly lit their paths and their faces. 

It was extravagance flaunted to those who were granted passage in, and a temptation to friends and foe alike who were not. Dean was sure that their oasis had grown from nothing, far before the island had emerged from the depths of the sea, but he wasn’t exceptionally smart, and much of the finer details alluded him. 

To the south of their coral territory was a chasm brought forth from a rift in the sea floor. Hot lava flowed dangerously close to what was left of the floor, causing columns of hot water to swirl in the basin that the chasm created. Along shelves in the walls were small, concaved spaces they carved out to incubate their eggs. It was the perfect place; warm, and well protected by the bulk of the coral structure.

To the east were their hunting grounds. It was separated from the incubation chasm by a large tower of rock and coral that formed a cay above the surface; a small beach where those like Dean were forbidden to go. He’d followed the bottom of the structure for far enough to know that the length of the cay, supported by the column, was more than enough to protect the incubation chasm from anything that would like to eat their eggs. The hunting ground was where they went to find food – they didn’t eat the fish that lived in their habitat for the sake of the plant community and its delicate balance. Fish out in the open ocean, however, where free game to them.

To the north and the west were far away human settlements, several more islands and nothing else other than the open ocean. They were not allowed to stray far that way. Humans liked to float on big, cold structures that polluted the water. They sunk heavy objects to the ocean floor that broke apart the corals and damaged vital plants. They threw in woven nets and metal claws to dig up the shallow sea beds and catch enormous amounts of fish. Rather destructive and repulsive creatures, they were.

Dean was more inclined to explore beyond the hunting grounds. The oceans were darker out there, and far deeper. Only their strongest hunters, like Dean’s father, were sent that far out past the drop off. There were large schools of solitary fish that passed through, guided by several open-ocean currents, but other than that there wasn’t much life out there.

There were sharks, though. Sometimes whales or flocks of string rays or dolphins too, but sharks were not all that uncommon. Whether they were mer or not they liked to eat people like Dean, and it was the job of the hunters to chase away or kill sharks that strayed too close or caught the scent of their settlement. Dean was going to be just like his father when he was old enough and big enough, he was sure of it. Others said that someone with pretty, flimsy fins like him couldn’t possibly be strong enough, but he knew he could do it.

In most ways, Dean took after his mother. He had her long tail, her green eyes, and her soft, almost translucent fins that puffed out in large, lacy fans. His scales were green like hers, but a shade or two darker – he thought they looked more masculine – though they became lighter towards his belly. His markings however, the ones that covered his hips and his tail, were much more like his fathers, bold and confident, as was his facial structure. 

By the standards of his people, he was quite handsome. He didn’t have to do much to attract the eyes of potential mates, though he never kept one. While his mind did stray to them from time to time, he was always more interested in hunting with his father.

Perhaps it was that interest that had him defying his father’s orders in favour of exploring beyond the hunting grounds. There hadn’t been shark sightings for weeks so it wasn’t like he was putting himself in danger. He was just curious, and everyone knows curiosity killed the catfish.

The open oceans were always a strange place to be in. He had to rely completely on his own strength to move. He couldn’t use coral shelves or rocks to move through the water, and there was no one else around to help him. It was exhilarating to be so suspended in the ocean like he was. He couldn’t see the sea floor from this depth, nor could he make out the great blue stretch above the surface of the ocean. He drifted along with the faint currents that stirred the waters, ears perked for any noise.

There wasn’t any, but he held his knife in hand just in case. It was oddly freeing to be out on his own. He could let all his fins spread without getting stares and he didn’t have to always wear a stern, cocky expression. Oddly enough, it was easy to relax, even if he didn’t let his guard down. The silence was certainly different to the noise of the reef.

Dean drifted down lower into the depths. It was darker, but he could see without a problem. He knew if he drifted a dozen or so tail-spans deeper that he’d start to find schools of large fish, but he wasn’t in a chasing mood. He was more content to explore – to find out what the murky shapes he could see in the distance were. He knew they must be rocks or something else equally common, but what if they weren’t? There might be sunken ships or other off structures that he’d never seen before. 

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t sense any movement in the water until it was incredibly close to him. It was a subtle, silent shift that he should have noticed, but didn’t, and he was already swearing at himself for being so stupid.

When he spun around, knife already raise, he came face-to-face with a shark.

The first thing he noticed was not the shark’s unnaturally pointed teeth or his extreme size, but it was his damn good looks. He was surprisingly handsome for a monster; he had a strong jaw and fierce eyes and brown hair that was long enough to reach his shoulders. He was easily longer and wider than Dean, which was saying something considering Dean was pretty big himself. He looked pretty terrifying, but Dean didn’t feel as frightened or aggravated as he thought he would have. He was just curious.

“Do you ever cut your lip with teeth like that?” Dean asked, tentatively drifting closer. He tilted his head to the side when the shark moves further away from him, frowning furiously. 

“You’re meant to be afraid,” the shark said, baring his teeth as he suddenly leaned closer. Dean could abruptly smell his scent, squashed down with some of the scent-eliminating plant mixtures their hunters used. It was faint but oddly alluring; one Dean had never smelt before, tinged with something coppery that was probably blood.

Before the shark could get any closer Dean whipped his blade up, pressing it sharply against the shark’s neck. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he said with a wide grin. “Aren’t you meant to be hunting me, or something?”

“I could still eat you, pretty boy,” the shark snarled, tail thrashing. He didn’t have lacy fins like Dean did; rather, he was exactly like one would expect – sleek and grey, designed for speed and strength and not flashy displays of beauty.

Dean hummed. He trailed his knife around the shark’s neck as he swam around him, eyeing up his tail and the strong muscles of his back and shoulders. He felt an odd stirring in his stomach that he knew to be arousal and shook it off. He always popped boners at inappropriate times. “You think I’m pretty?”

It was teasing for sure, and the shark only gave him another teeth-filled grin as he slunk closer. Dean’s blade was still pressed against his throat but the shark tested the limits, unafraid. “Oh, I think you’re very pretty,” he rumbled. How did he get his voice to go all deep and sexy like that? Unfair.

Dean drifted back in front of him and carefully took pressure off his knife. If the shark wanted to eat him he would have by now. Maybe he was just curious, too. “Sure you’re not the pretty one?”

The fierce grin he got in reply was worth the danger of pulling his knife away. “Never been around someone with fins like yours,” he said.

“The same can be said for me,” Dean said as he drew himself away. “What’s your name?”

“Sam,” the shark replied. “And yours, pretty boy?”

Dean grinned again. This shark was one smooth fucker, alright. He was a sucker for praise. “Dean.”

Sam drifted closer, and although he surely noticed Dean’s fingers tightening around his knife he didn’t mention it. He circled Dean once, eyeing him up with a hearty glint in his eyes. “You really are just the prettiest little morsel,” he murmured. His large hands found Dean’s hips before Dean realised what he was doing, and then those sharp teeth were nipping at his ear. “I could eat you right up.”

He was kind of ashamed to admit it, but Dean absolutely shuddered at that. Fully body and everything. His skin broke out in chills as he tilted his head again, this time to instinctively bare his neck to Sam. He’d never been particularly submissive in bed, but that was certainly a submissive gesture. “Is that so?”

Sam only hummed again. He was so close that Dean could just about feel the vibrations in his chest.

Dean licked his lips once. “What are you gonna do about it?”

If the way Sam’s hands tightened on his hips was anything to go by, Dean knew exactly what he was gonna do. He wasn’t going to complain.


End file.
